


count the time in quarter tones

by andtimestoodstill



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Ronan Lynch, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, adam is patrick, also trauma, and kissing i guess, and then bros making out, bc that's noah czerny, chapter 3 is mostly ronan's tortured inner dialogue, just dues being bros, most of chapter 2 is a long digression about cows, my love language is italicization, ronan is david, sometimes the trauma involves cows, the schitt's creek au i've wanted to write for months, vague off-screen recreational drug use, what's the opposite of a cockblock?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andtimestoodstill/pseuds/andtimestoodstill
Summary: Adam just nodded entreatingly. “Yeah, for sure. We’ll just leave that blank as well.” He scanned the page. “Here’s an easy one, brief description of the business?”“Um…” Ronan trailed off.“Tell you what,” Adam’s mouth twisted into a smile and he clicked his pen. “How about you take this home,” he gestured down to the form. “And you can fill it out when you have a better idea of what you want to do with your business.”“I know what I’m doing with my business,” Ronan said gruffly.“Oh, so you’ve settled on a name then?”(In which Ronan Lynch wants to renovate the Henrietta General Store to piss of his brother and maybe finds something amazing along the way)
Relationships: Noah Czerny & Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey III & Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch & Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 26
Kudos: 322





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9bcztN7NmA)

“You need to make something with your life, Ronan.”

Ronan Lynch huffed out an annoyed breath, valiantly trying to ignore his older brother’s arrogant expression out of the corner of his eye. “Fuck off, Declan.”

They were walking the three blocks between St. Agnes and Nino’s Pizza at Matthew’s insistence. The older Lynch brothers hardly ever found common ground, and Matthew Lynch’s whims could account for most of it.

Sometimes Ronan wondered if Matthew tried to use his position as the beloved little brother to see just how far he could push Declan and Ronan. Who wanted to eat greasy sub-par pizza after standing/sitting/kneeling for two and a half hours in stuffy wool-blend suits? And better yet, who wanted to _walk_ to the greasy little sub-par pizzeria after all the standing/sitting/kneeling in their stuffy wool-blend suits? And in the dead of summer?

God, he was lucky Ronan loved him.

“I’ve made something of my life, fuck you very much,” Ronan said at last. They were stopped at one of three stop lights in town, waiting for the chance to cross.

Declan sighed. “I know that.” Ronan didn’t feel triumphant for long, Declan continuing, “but you’re 25, Ronan. You shouldn’t basically be _retired_.”

“I’m sorry,” Ronan sneered. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t have made the Barns into a self-sustaining business? One that provides jobs to residents of this thriving, up-and-coming metropolis?” He gestured to downtown Henrietta grandly.

It was only kind of a joke; Henrietta wasn’t the same small town it had been when the brothers Lynch attended Aglionby. There was even a Taco Bell now.

Since dropping out of school on his eighteenth birthday, Ronan had moved back to the dilapidated family farm and built it back up from the dirt. He used his trust fund to return the farm to its former glory; it had only taken eleven months to turn a profit. As the demands of the farm increased, Ronan had to hire a few farmhands to keep up with the work. Just a few years later, Ronan had transitioned into a more managerial role, overseeing a crew of eight full-time employees.

“Look, you’re young and successful; but there’s got to be something else you want to do.” The light changed and the Lynch boys stepped out into the crosswalk.

Ronan scoffed. “I’m not moving to D.C., Declan.”

“Why not?” Matthew asked. He had loped ahead, bouncing on the balls of his feet on the other side of the crosswalk; the laces of his ratty Chuck’s untied and threatening to trip the youngest Lynch brother. “We could live together!”

“I can’t live in student housing, Matty,” Ronan ruffled his little brother’s golden curls.

Matthew rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He was about to start his sophomore year at George Washington University. “We would get an off-campus apartment together, duh.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Declan would let that happen.”

Declan ignored his statement, barreling on. “I mean it Ronan. There’s more for you out there than lollygagging about the Barns all day.”

“I don’t do any _lollygagging_ , asshole. Just because I’m not tilling the fields or shearing the sheep, doesn’t mean I’m not _working_.”

Declan stopped, grabbing Ronan’s arm to keep the middle brother back as Matthew skipped ahead. “Look around, Ronan.” He gestured to the paint peeling off the façade of the old Henrietta General Store, the _for lease; inquire within_ sign hanging crookedly in the front window; to the asphalt speckled with potholes; to the flickering neon sign above Nino’s. “You’ve outgrown this place. It’s time to move on to bigger and better things.”

Ronan couldn’t bear to look at Declan, gaze focused on the _for lease_ sign taped to the window of the general store. There were so many thoughts and emotions he could not name, parts of himself he could not properly express.

How was he supposed to explain to Declan that he liked that things in Henrietta were a little run-down? That even when it changed, the town sort-of stayed the same? Sometimes it felt like the earth was spinning too fast for Ronan Lynch, like time was slipping between his fingers on a daily basis.

But when he was standing in one of the wide fields at the Barns, or along the cracked sidewalk in Henrietta proper, were the only times that he felt like his feet were firmly planted on the ground.

A plan started to form in the back of his mind, half-formed. It was barely a plan, really; just an opportunity to spite his stupid brother. Ronan shook off Declan’s grip and stalked off, shouldering his way through the door of the Henrietta General Store, ignoring Declan’s exclamations behind him.

***

Ronan pulled up outside _Henry Cheng, Esq._ just before noon a few days later. It was a hot and muggy day, Ronan remembered how his hair used to grow in the humidity on days like this; the three unruly Lynch boys running around the Barns with their unruly curls.

He turned off the car, the immediate lack of air conditioning felt suffocating, so he hurried out of the car and into the office. The waiting room was quiet, and blessedly cool. There was an unoccupied reception desk, and a row of empty seats along the wall.

“Uh, hello?” Ronan said, a little unsettled by deserted office. There was a muffled voice and the thumping bass of house music coming from the back room. Ronan followed the sound until he found a makeshift photography studio.

“Now Will, look at Theresa. But don’t really look at her, look at me. Look at her _and_ look at me.” A couple was posed in front of a white sheet, the dark-haired man struggling to comply with the paradoxical direction. The camera flashed and shuttered, the photographer praising them.

“Hello?” Ronan said again, tapping the photographer, who he assumed was Henry, on the shoulder. “I’m here for my appointment?”

“Fabulous Will, inspired!” Henry snapped a few more pictures before straightening. He turned and smiled brightly at Ronan. “You must be Mr. Lynch. Now remind me. Are you here for a photo package or travel planning? Or perhaps our newest service, closet organization?”

“I’m here to file incorporation papers for my new business,” Ronan replied gruffly. He hated being called _Mr. Lynch_.

“That’s right. Adam!” Henry called towards an open door behind Ronan.

Ronan turned to see an unfamiliar man stroll out of the office. He was wearing a light blue oxford, the sleeved rolled up past his elbows to reveal the freckled expanse of his tanned forearms. The freckles continued up the man’s neck and across his nose, dusting the delicate skin under his deep blue eyes. His hair was a tousled mess of dirty blonde locks.

Ronan’s brain wasn’t quite sure to do with all of this information, everything going a little fuzzy as Adam reached out a freckled, knobbly knuckled—beautiful, it was beautiful—hand for Ronan to shake.

“Adam Parrish,” he said, a polite smile on his face.

“Lynch. Uh, Ronan Lynch.” Ronan shook Adam’s hand.

Adam’s polite smile faltered for a moment, a smirk threatening the corners of his mouth. Ronan had the distinct impression that Adam was trying to keep himself from _teasing_ Ronan. “Yeah, I know.” He began to lead Ronan away, towards his office “Alright, Mr. Lynch—”

“Don’t call me that,” Ronan interrupted. Adam stopped and turned; a dusty eyebrow raised. “Mister,” Ronan clarified.

“Okay?” Adam’s voice trailed up at the end like it was a question. A slightly amused expression settled over his features. “Alright, Lynch, let’s get you set up in my office.”

 _Office_ was a generous term. Ronan was pretty sure it was a broom closet with a high, useless window along the back wall. A desk and a pair of chairs were squeezed into the space, the surface of the desk tidy enough, but seemed chaotic and cluttered in the small room

“Sit,” Adam gestured towards a chair as he shuffled around the desk to sit behind it.

Henry could still be heard from the other room, his voice echoing off the bare walls. “Now, your parents tell me you’re very sporty. So Will, you grab the paddle, and Theresa take this racquet.”

Ronan gave Adam a questioning look, the other man breathing out a chagrined laugh. “I would close the door, but it gets hotter than noon on the Fourth of July in here if I do.” An accent colored his words, Adam seeming to lay on the drawl for effect. He smiled conspiratorially at Ronan. “You get used to it after a while,” he said, voice returning to normal. 

“Right,” Ronan responded. He was trying to play it cool, but he was also struggling to form a single coherent thought.

“Alright,” Adam pulled out a form from a drawer in his desk, he scanned it quickly and mindlessly spun a pen in his right hand. He looked up and smiled, “why don’t we start with the name of the business?”

Ronan had not come up with a name for his new business, so he attributed his lack of response to this and not the fact that his brain was full of fuzzy white light as Adam Parrish continued to reveal himself. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“O-kay,” Adam looked down at the form and then back up at Ronan. “I’ll just leave it blank then. How about a business address?”

“Um, well, I live on a commercial farm, so I think it might be confusing if I gave you the address of another business.”

God, Ronan was such an idiot.

Adam just nodded entreatingly. “Yeah, for sure. We’ll just leave that blank as well.” He scanned the page. “Here’s an easy one, brief description of the business?”

“Um…” Ronan trailed off.

“Tell you what,” Adam’s mouth twisted into a smile and he clicked his pen. “How about you take this home,” he gestured down to the form. “And you can fill it out when you have a better idea of what you want to do with your business.”

“I know what I’m doing with my business,” Ronan said gruffly.

“Oh, so you’ve settled on a name then?”

That surprised a laugh out of Ronan. Feeling betrayed by his own brain, muddled with thoughts about this unsettlingly handsome _asshole_ , Ronan said, “I’m really only doing this to piss of my brother.”

“Ah, _spite_ ; the world’s greatest motivator.”

“You’re kind of a dick, you know that?”

Adam laughed heartily, straight teeth flashing as he smiled. “I do.” He handed Ronan the form and then paused. After a moment of thought, he grabbed a small white card from the stack on his desk. “Here’s my card, I feel like you might need it.”

Ronan took the form and the business card and stood. “You know what? I think I’m good. So, thank you for this.”

Adam’s smile was a teasing thing. “It was nice meeting you, Lynch.”

“Yeah.”

Ronan stomped out of Adam’s office, passing Henry, Will, and Theresa. The couple were posed awkwardly with a canoe paddle and an old-school wooden tennis racquet. “Goodbye Mr. Lynch!” Henry called after him without looking up from the camera.

He hurried over to his car, stepping on the break and twisting the key into the ignition as soon as he was seated. Air started blowing through the vents, hot and humid and nowhere near _conditioned_.

With a groan, Ronan leaned his forehead against the hot leather of the steering wheel. It stung a little, but it felt right to continue his suffering after making a complete and utter fool of himself. The only upside being that once Ronan filled out and filed his forms, he’d probably never see Adam Parrish again.

***

“Some dude told me my business was a failure today,” Ronan said as collapsed in a chair in Noah’s office in the renovated long barn. It was blessedly cool, especially after the walk from the main house.

“What?” Noah looked over from his computer, fair eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Who?”

He was head of marketing and sales for Lynch Farms. For the first few years, Ronan had handled sales himself, but it became glaringly obvious that he needed someone much more charismatic for the job; and his good friend from high school, Noah Czerny, fit the bill exactly. It didn’t hurt that he had a degree in marketing, either.

“The guy who was helping me incorporate my business.”

“The guy who was helping you incorporate your business told you that your business was a failure?” Ronan shrugged and kicked his feet up to rest on Noah’s desk. The blond eyed Ronan’s boots, but didn’t comment on them. “What did he say?”

“He told me to come back when I had a better idea of what my business was.”

“And then he called it a _failure_?” Noah asked, disbelievingly.

Ronan paused. “Okay, maybe he didn’t call it a _failure_ —”

Noah laughed and turned back towards his computer. If Ronan wasn’t his employer, he would have been annoyed that Noah so easily went back to work after being distracted. “Look, Lynch.” He was still typing away. “You know that I think it’s a good idea, right? And that I’ve told you _many times_ that I think it’s a good idea?” His green eyes slid over to Ronan around his monitor.

“Okay, maybe I’m the one who thinks my business is a failure. I mean for fucks sakes; I’m just doing it to piss off Declan. I’m 25 now, you’d think that I wouldn’t let him get under my skin so easily—”

“Okay, Okay. Calm down.” Noah stood and walked around the desk. He pushed Ronan’s legs until they fell back to the floor with a _thunk_ and perched on the edge of the desk. “For the millionth time, it’s a good idea, Lynch. Don’t doubt yourself. And I’m sure the guy was just trying to help.”

“He was an asshole,” Ronan said around the leather bands at his wrist. He dropped his arm, not wanting to resort back to all of his teenage insecurities.

“Sure,” Noah smiled beseechingly. “Well,” he twisted away and rifled through his desk for a moment. When he turned back around, he was holding up a joint. “I was just about to take a break. You want to join me?”

“Noah Czerny, I am your _employer_.” Noah just raised a fair eyebrow and waited for Ronan to get over himself. “Yes, absolutely.”

***

Ronan settled on his back in the cow pasture, the sky a hazy, afternoon blue. He could feel the world humming around him with life, grass tickling the back of his neck, the air shimmering with heat. It smelled like earth and rain and hay out here. Like home. Like long summer days with his brothers and scuffed wooden floors and paint peeling from the ceiling and cracked leather couches.

Okay, maybe he was still a little high. It wasn’t his fault that Noah had really good weed.

He pulled his phone out from his pocket and dialed an unfamiliar number. The line rang and rang until he was met with a voicemail greeting.

“Hi Ronan, it’s Adam,” Ronan pulled the phone away from his mouth pressing it against his chest as he swore violently. After a moment he picked the phone back up and said, “I was just calling to run my business plan by you in a little more detail. So, uh, feel free to call me back and I can walk you through it or whatever.” Ronan squeezed his eyes shut against the persistent August sunshine. “Okay, ciao.”

He quickly hung up the phone and groaned. “Ciao,” he scrubbed at the side of his face with his free hand. “fucking, _ciao_. Oh my god.”

Later, Ronan would blame it on the weed, but he dialed Adam’s number again. “Hi, Adam. Yeah, I think I called you Ronan. Which, that’s not your name…” he trailed off for a moment, mentally kicking himself. “You could just delete that text. Or voicemail. Voicemail that I left you. Just thought I should give you some more information about the store.”

Ronan opened his eyes and watched a bird fly overhead, silhouetted by the sun. “It’s basically a general store that will support local artisans under the, uh, brand of the store? Which is also my brand… God, I fucking hate that word. _Brand_. It’s so, you know. Yeah. Anyway.”

Ronan’s phone dinged with a text. He pulled the device away from his face to look at the screen. It was some intelligible message made up mostly of emojis from Matthew. While trying to swipe the message out of the way, he accidentally ended the call.

“Sorry. Yeah, the text cut us off,” he said after calling Adam for a _third_ time. He groaned and swore into the crook of his arm. “As I was saying…”

Well, no one could say Ronan Lynch did anything halfway.

***

The next day, despite the lingering headache from his recreational activities from the day before, Ronan drove into town and parked in the same spot outside Henry Cheng, Professional Services. Unlike yesterday, the office was completely quiet when he walked in, no couples posed in strange configurations or house music to be found. He crossed the room towards Adam’s sorry excuse of an office, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe.

Adam looked up, surprised. Before he could say anything, Ronan said, “hi. I, uh, messed up my forms, and I’m going to need another form from you.” He held up the piece of paper in question, lines and lines of crossed out text. After calling Adam _five times_ —Ronan was an absolute moron, he was never getting high _ever again_ —he tried filling out the forms himself in the hopes he could just drop it off before the office opened so he wouldn’t have to face Adam Parrish.

Like everything else regarding Adam Parrish and his stupid beautiful face, Ronan completely failed at this simple task, and before long the form was covered in unintelligible chicken scratch.

Adam’s mouth threatened to break out into a smirk, taking the forms from Ronan and saying, “oh. Okay.”

There was an awkward pause as Adam glanced down at the sheet, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What?” Ronan asked gruffly.

“Nothing,” there was a barely contained laugh in Adam’s tone. “I’m just so glad you made such good use of my business card. I’m sorry that I didn’t pick up, I was at a thing.” Adam put Ronan’s form to the side and started rifling through his desk. He glanced up at Ronan through his dusty lashes, and Ronan swore his heart just gave up altogether at the sight. “I got your messages.”

“And you just listened to the first one and then deleted the rest?” Ronan tried not to sound too hopeful.

There was a teasing lilt to Adam’s voice when he said, “No, I listened to all of them. I kind of had to, to piece them together. I played them for a few friends of mine, I was at a birthday party so there were a lot of people weighing in.” At the look of horror on Ronan’s face, Adam breathed out a low chuckle. “Kidding. I didn’t play them for anybody.”

“I thought the first few were very funny,” Henry said from behind Ronan, surprising him. “Then I lost interest.”

Ronan spun back around and shot a dirty look at Adam. “I may have played them here on speakerphone,” he admitted.

“Can I just get the paperwork?”

Adam continued the search for the paperwork, finally pulling out a red manila folder from the drawer. He didn’t hand them over right away, regarding Ronan carefully for a moment. “The good thing about your messages was that I was able to get enough information to fill out your forms.”

“Oh,” Ronan said as he took the folder from Adam. To save himself the embarrassment of looking at Adam Parrish any longer, he studied the paper. It was filled out in nice, neat block handwriting, free of smudges and mistakes, unlike Ronan’s forms.

“It’s a good idea,” Adam said at last. Ronan finally looked down at him. “Rebranding local products and crafts, it’s very inventive.”

Ronan could feel the tips of his ears tinging pink with the praise. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“And I like the name. _Lynch Apothecary_. It’s _just_ pretentious enough.”

Ronan huffed out a laugh. “That was my friend, Czerny’s idea. He thinks it’ll be a hit with the hipsters.”

Adam’s breathy chuckle warmed its way through Ronan’s chest. He smiled—a real genuine smile, not the customer service bullshit smile, or the shit-eating grin he used when he was teasing Ronan—and nodded. “So, I’ll call you when I hear something.” He gestured vaguely to the forms. “And If I can’t get ahold of you, I’ll just, uh, leave a message.”

Ronan thought it was incredibly unfair for the universe to put this funny, handsome asshole in his direct line of sight and make him so obviously unavailable to Ronan. And even worse, to have Ronan make such an ass of himself in front of this man, that even if Ronan believed that in a million years he could have someone like Adam Parrish, that he would still be remembered as the guy who left him five incomprehensible voicemail messages mere _hours_ after they first met.

Though, the world wasn’t so cruel as for Ronan to flush in embarrassment at this comment. He kept his cool enough to say, “thanks,” and turn on one heel.

Henry was organizing something at his desk, but he looked up at Ronan stalked out of the room. “Ciao!” he called after him.

Ronan could hear Adam’s undignified snort from his office and his cheeks burned. He kept his course out of the building and into his car, his flush not receding until the BMW roared to life and he was racing towards the Barns.

***

“This kind of smells like feet,” Blue said, sniffing at a box of tea.

“Your mom made that tea,” Ronan replied over his shoulder, pulling out yet more jars of hand cream from yet another box. At this point, Lynch Apothecary was half cardboard boxes.

“That’s why I’m allowed to criticize it.” She sniffed the tea again and made a face. Ronan rolled his eyes and continued unpacking hand cream. Blue ditched the tea and sidled up next to him. She unscrewed the lid off one of the tubs of hand cream.

“Hey!” Ronan tried to pry the jar from her hands, but Blue spun out of the way.

“ _This_ smells great. What is it?”

Ronan sighed. If he hadn’t been so desperate for help, he would have kicked her out for contaminating all the product. But Blue was his only friend who could assist him today. Gansey was prepping for the first day of school and Noah refused to help him on his days off. And if he wasn’t going to be paid. “Honey and goat milk hand cream.”

“From where?” she asked, searching the tub for a label. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” Ronan finally wrestled the jar from her hands. “Noah’s been wanting to expand our line of sundries. He’s been product testing for a while now.” Ronan felt the rush of pride at seeing _Product of Lynch Farms_ written across the label. He screwed the lid back on and put the jar of hand cream with the rest.

“I’ll go get more boxes,” he said to Blue, tucking the broken down carboard under one arm. “Make this,” he gestures to the piles of product on the counter, “look less like shit.”

Blue snorted as Ronan slipped behind the register and into the back room. There was a growing pile of cardboard in one corner and a slowly—very slowly—diminishing stack of boxes to be unpacked. Ronan grabbed two deceptively heavy boxes and carried them out to the main room.

From behind the boxes, Ronan heard Blue and a familiar voice that he couldn’t quite place. He dropped the boxes next to the register and turned around to see Blue Sargent wrapping a scarf around the neck of a smiling Adam Parrish.

“That’s actually cat hair,” Ronan said. “There’s a Himalayan breeder in town who knits them.”

Adam automatically reached for the scarf, loosening it. The scarf wasn’t actually made from cat hair, but a Himalayan cat breeder who lived in town _did_ in fact knit them, so…

“Hi, Lynch. I was just dropping off your business license. And activating my allergies.”

“Yeah you should probably take that off,” Ronan said, watching carefully as Adam struggled to unwind the scarf from around his neck. “Like now.”

Blue was holding the business license, smiling cheekily up at him. “Look at how sweet, Lynch. Adam _framed_ it.”

I was kind of sweet, not that Ronan was going to embarrass himself in front of Adam even further by admitting it.

“They, uh,” Adam put the scarf down. “All come framed.”

“Oh good,” Ronan said. “Because this frame is fucking ugly.”

Blue failed at stifling a snort of laughter before taking the frame back from Ronan. “You’re ungrateful, Snake.”

“I’m not a liar, Maggot.”

Adam was glancing between them, smiling amusedly. Ronan’s gaze slid over to him and Adam looked away, studying the product. “There’s a lot of stuff in here,” he said, finally looking up. “You don’t want to spend _too_ much money up front.”

“Yeah, Lynch, that is _not_ good.” Ronan looked over at Blue, betrayal evident on his face. She just smiled wolfishly and sidled up next to Adam.

Adam gave Blue a small smile before continuing. “You have to be prepared to survive a year without making any profit.”

“Actually, the textbooks now say eighteen months,” Blue cut in. She took _Intro to Business_ to fulfill an elective credit _last semester_. She was such a little shit sometimes.

By her expression, Ronan knew that Blue knew that she was such a little shit sometimes.

“Really?” Adam sounded impressed.

“Okay, what do the textbooks say about curating a selection of products from local vendors and selling them on consignment in a one-stop-shop retail environment that benefits both the vendor and the customer?” He started his tirade speaking to Blue, but he found his gaze sliding over to Adam, entranced by the tilt of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Blue rolled her eyes and took the non-cat hair scarf off the counter and returned it to its display.

“I stand corrected,” Adam said. Who was impressing him now?

Ronan struggled to keep the glow of pride contained to his pounding heart and a sharp smirk.

“Well, if you need any help, I can stay.”

“No, that’s—”

“Lynch, if Adam is offering to help move all the heavy boxes, I think we should let him.”

“Is that what I offered?” he asked Blue, his bright smile discordant with the offense in his tone.

Ronan didn’t really want to watch Adam flirt with Blue, but he wasn’t going to turn down help with the boxes. Especially because Blue refused to carry anything above ten pounds on _account of being your best friend’s girlfriend and because I don’t want to_.

“Thanks, Parrish,” Ronan said at last.

“Alright,” Blue said, cutting through the awkward silence. “You can start by moving those boxes of hand cream,” she gestured vaguely to the back room. Adam disappeared behind the register.

“We already unpacked the hand—” Ronan started, response dying on his tongue as Blue smacked him in the stomach. “What the fuck, Sargent?” He grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again.

“He’s cute,” Blue said, voice dropped low enough that hopefully Adam couldn’t hear.

“Shut up.”

Blue was grinning like a maniac as Adam came out of the stockroom, empty handed. “Sorry, I can't find any boxes of hand cream.” He looked between Ronan and Blue again, sandy eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Are you guys okay?”

Ronan looked down and saw he was still holding Blue’s wrist. He dropped it. “Yeah. C’mon, Parrish,” Ronan swept past him. “Let’s go get those fucking boxes.”

***

Ronan was working alone in the store the next day, taking inventory of product and dutifully ignoring the fancy new register Gansey had delivered that morning with a note that read _I am so proud of you – RCG III_ like they were goddamn flowers sent to Ronan’s office after a first date.

The bell above the door rang as it was pushed open. “Maggot, I swear to god, you are banned from this store until—Oh, Parrish.” Ronan looked up to see a smiling Adam Parrish walking through the door.

“Hi, Lynch.”

There was an awkward beat. “Are you here to tell me that my business license has been revoked?” Ronan had aimed for a joking tone but missed it by a mile. It wasn’t fair to expect him to act like a normal human person when he was face-to-face with Adam Parrish. It really wasn’t.

“No,” Adam breathed out a laugh. “No, you’re all good.”

“Cool.” Ronan looked anywhere but Adam. “Well, Blue isn’t here today, so…” He tried not to sound resentful. “And you should know that she has a boyfriend. Who is also my best friend—"

“I’m not here to see Blue,” Adam cut in. Ronan didn’t respond, _couldn’t_ respond. “I was thinking,” Adam continued. “Blue was showing me all of the products yesterday, and they’re really impressive. The whole model is actually very sustainable.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“I just don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

Ronan felt himself tense, “excuse me—”

“Sorry,” Adam cut him off. “That came out wrong. I think you have so many great ideas, but you don’t know how to execute them in a way that maximizes their potential.”

“Okay? Do you have any useful advice, or did you just want to come in here and insult me in my place of business?”

Adam laughed, a quiet thing. “I want to help you.”

“Like work here?” Ronan asked, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice.

Adam nodded solemnly. “I really think you have something here, Ronan.”

“Don’t you already have a job?”

“Henry really doesn’t need me full time,” Adam shrugged. “And finding a replacement won't be hard.” There was a tense beat. “So? What to do you say?”

“Sure. I think, yeah. Mhm.” Ronan just nodded and shut his mouth, hoping to save himself from any. More embarrassment.

“Great. Well, in the interest of honesty, I think I should come clean about something.” Ronan’s eyebrows drew up his forehead before Adam continued. “I, uh, did pick out that frame.” He jerked his head towards where the business license was hung up on the wall.

Ronan snorted out a laugh. “Well, thank you for making it very clear that I will be handling all of the creative decisions for the store, and you can take care of all the business bullshit.”

Adam laughed brightly, a smile dawning across his face. “I think I can handle that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I've been wanting to write this for months, and it has definitely gotten out of hand. Hopefully I can get chapter two up in a few days. 
> 
> You can look forward to cows in chapter two (and maybe a version from Adam's POV sometime soon bc I finally accept that this is just who I am)
> 
> Comments/Kudos are always greatly appreciated ♥︎
> 
> You can find me [here.](https://andtimestoodstill.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

“Will you sort those body milks by size?” Ronan pointed out the array of bottles his best friend, Richard Campbell Gansey III, before turning away to organize a display of hand-dipped candles.

“Can you drink these?” he asked, picking up one of the bottles to study the ingredients.

“Gansey, you teach the youth of tomorrow. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“There is no such thing as a stupid question,” Gansey touted haughtily. He was the beloved AP History teacher at Aglionby; all the raven boys were falling over themselves to get a letter of recommendation from him for their Ivy League of choice.

Ronan felt like puking just at the thought.

“So?” Gansey prodded.

“Fuck no. It’s liquid moisturizer.”

The door opened as Ronan responded, Adam stepping through. He was wearing a powder blue button-up shirt that contrasted nicely with his tanned skin. Ronan turned back towards the candles so as not to ogle his business partner further.

“Did you ask if you could drink them, too?” Adam asked Gansey.

Ronan’s head whipped around, catching the pre-emptive smirk on Adam’s face. “It says _body milk_ on the goddamn label.”

“I told Lynch that the label was misleading, but he insisted. What was it that you said _? Anyone with an ounce of common sense would know that it’s not_ actually _milk_.”

Ronan was pretty sure there were a few profanities peppered in there, but that was the gist of it, yes. He rolled his eyes and stepped away from the candle display. “Okay, what is body milk if not _milk_ for your fucking _body_?”

“Do you _have_ to use profanities as a definitive articles?” Gansey asked, exasperated in a way that was only possible after knowing someone for more than a decade.

“Would you rather I use them as indefinite articles, Dick?”

Adam didn’t laugh, but he did crack a smile. Ronan tried to ignore the rush of pride at the sight. “You must be Gansey, I’m Adam Parrish.”

“Yes.” They shook hands, Gansey smiling broadly. “It’s so nice to _finally_ meet you.”

Ronan ignored this obvious dig and went back to work. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Adam said.

“None of its true,” Gansey said apologetically. Like Ronan didn’t have better things to do than shit talk his own best friend.

“Oh, well anyone with an ounce of common sense would know that.” Adam smiled wolfishly at Ronan as he said this, any sort of response dying on his tongue at the tilt of his lips.

“I like him,” Gansey said, turning around. He looked back at Adam. “I like you.”

Ronan sighed. “I can't deal with you two. If you’re gonna be fucking nerds, one of you is going to have to leave.”

“I’ll take that as my cue then, lunch is almost over, anyway.” Gansey shifted one last body milk slightly to the left and smiled warmly at Adam. “It was lovely meeting you.”

Ronan gagged facetiously and Adam laughed. “You too, Gansey.”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing _much_ more of each other.” Gansey gathered his phone and wallet off the counter and easily dodged the non-cat hair scarf Ronan threw at him. “Bye, Ronan!” he called as he slipped out of the store and down the street.

“He’s an asshole,” Ronan said to Adam at last.

“Sure,” Adam said, drawing out the word. “I’ve got a bunch of tax forms to fill out, shall we get started?”

They spent the better part of the afternoon filling out form after form for the worst of the federal government’s bureaucratic agencies. He made sure Adam knew how much Ronan despised the IRS, but the other man mostly just nodded, tuned him out, and pointed to places where Ronan could _just sign on the damn line, okay? I find this shit just as boring as you do_.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What do you mean?” Adam looked up at him for a moment before going back to his search for the next damn line for Ronan to sign on.

“You went to business school, I figured you’d love this shit.”

“Filling out forms?” Adam asked incredulously. “Is there anyone on this planet who enjoys that?”

“My brother,” Ronan replied easily.

Adam snorted and then looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. There’s a chance he works for the IRS.”

“A _chance_?”

“He’s the kind of guy who likes filling out forms and may or may not work for the Internal Revenue Service; you can't blame me for tuning him out from time to time.”

Adam laughed and shook his head. “No, I guess not.”

“Why business?” Ronan asked. He had gotten a peek at Adam’s degrees hanging on the wall in his office at Henry’s. Some primal part of him, the Ronan that had survived three and half years at Aglionby, had felt a flash of admiration at the colleges printed across them. 

He shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to make something of myself.”

Ronan was sure that there was more to it than that. Adam Parrish didn’t seem like the kind of guy who did things on a whim. Who went to Harvard and Wharton because it sounded like a good time. But, whatever. Not like Ronan wanted to tell Adam about his tons and tons of baggage.

“Is that your phone?” Adam asked. There was a faint buzzing coming from Ronan’s pants, so it probably was.

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to answer it?” Adam asked, it didn’t really seem like a question.

“Ugh, fine.” Ronan pulled the device from his pocket. “Shit.” He answered the call. “Heather?”

“Mr. Lynch!”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Right, yes of course,” Heather said. She sounded nervous. “I know that we had an appointment next week, but my daughter has just gone into labor with my first grandchild—”

“We can reschedule when you get back,” Ronan said automatically, trying to put the poor woman out of her misery.

“Well, my flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning. And I have all the cheese ready…” she trailed off.

“I can come by today,” Ronan offered. He had trained himself to be kind and obliging all those years he coordinated sales at Lynch Farms. For some reason, people didn’t want to buy milk and eggs from big men with buzzcuts and back tattoos.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you...”

Ronan looked down at the pile of tax forms they still hadn’t gotten through. The choice between spending the afternoon singing his name on dotted lines over and over or getting in his car and racing out of town to taste artisanal cheeses was an easy one.

“It’s not an inconvenience, Heather.”

“Oh, Mr. Lynch, I really appreciate it.”

Ronan didn’t bother correcting her again. He told her that he would be there within the hour and hung up.

“Was that Heather Warner? Of Warner Farms?”

“Yeah. She needs me to meet with her today, so I guess I can't fill out any more of these _super fun_ forms—” Ronan grabbed his keys and made for the door.

“Wait!”

Ronan turned to see Adam, half-standing. “Yeah?”

“Can I come with you?”

That gave Ronan pause. “To the cheese tasting?”

“Yeah.” Adam didn’t betray anything behind his motives, his expression open.

“You want to?”

Adam organized the forms into an orderly pile, after a moment he looked up. “We’re partners, right? I don’t just want to be the guy with the forms.” Ronan couldn’t find a response, the air hanging heavy between them. “I’m all in, Ronan.”

“Okay,” Ronan breathed.

“Great. You’re driving.” Adam patted him twice on the shoulder as he passed.

Ronan breathed out a laugh. “Let’s get out of here, Parrish. That cheese isn’t going to eat itself.”

***

“Oh my god, that caramelized onion goat cheese?” Adam said as they settled in the car after the tasting.

“Fuck, I know.”

“I would eat that shit out of a _shoe_.”

That surprised a laugh out of Ronan. “I would _eat_ a shoe covered in that cheese.” He stepped on the brake and started the BMW, pulling out of Heather’s driveway and onto the main road. Adam’s reply died in his throat as Ronan’s phone began to buzz violently in the cupholder between their seats. “Motherfucker.” Without looking, he answered the call and put it on speakerphone. “Hello?”

“Lynch, there’s a problem.”

“Sonia?” Sonia was the manager of daily operations at the farm.

“Brighid is calving.”

“Jesus, what is it with everyone going into early labor today?”

“What?” Sonia asked, Adam snorted out a laugh next to him. Ronan did not almost swerve the car into a ditch, thank you very much.

“Nothing. Will you give me a second, Sonia?”

Sonia grunted from the other side and Ronan put the call on mute. “Look—”

“Let’s just go to your farm, Lynch,” Adam laughed. “We can do the forms later.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what I was worried about.” Ronan glanced at Adam out of the corner of his eye. “It takes a long ass time for a cow to give birth.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Adam said so earnestly Ronan had to keep himself from driving them into a ditch. Again.

So they went to the Barns, the sun just starting to dip in the sky. Adam followed him out to the barn where Sonia said Brighid was calving. He pointed out the half-pipe he built last summer as Noah’s graduation/ _thank you for agreeing to come work for me_ present.

“That’s where Czerny likes to skate and smoke weed on his breaks.”

“Does he even try and hide what he’s doing out here?” Adam asked, incredulous.

Ronan shrugged. “If he gets his work done, I don’t really care how it happens.”

Adam laughed next him, shaking his head. “You’re not allowed to get high on your breaks at the store.”

“If you say so, Mr. boss man; but I’m the owner, so…”

They finally got to the barn, Adam laughing as he pulled the door open. Ronan got right to work; shucking off his jacket and bracelets before scrubbing his arms clean.

Adam studied the calving with an academic interest. Ronan had to shake off his heavy gaze to focus on his work, but it wasn’t too hard once Brighid started lowing softly.

“C’mon girl,” Ronan rubbed her side, calming the heifer in the best way he knew. “You were made for this,” he said lowly.

“Don’t patronize her,” Sonia said, appearing at Ronan’s side. “Okay, Lynch. Let’s get this show on the road.”

***

The calving went well, textbook really. A brown and white bull, with wide, glassy eyes blinking up at him, sticky with amniotic fluid. Brighid started cleaning him right away, Ronan finally looked up to see Adam watching the interaction.

“You want to see him, Parrish? A beautiful, bouncing baby boy.”

Adam took a hesitant step towards them, almost subconsciously, like he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed. He finally came up on Ronan’s left, kneeling down next to him. “Have you decided on a name?”

Ronan mindlessly stroked Brighid’s snout. “Caolan.”

“Is that gaelic?”

“Mhm, all the cows have Irish names. That was the way my dad always did it.” Ronan could feel Adam’s gaze on the side of his face. “The sheep are Scottish.”

Adam laughed. “It’s kind of amazing, seeing life brought into the world like that.”

“My first calving didn’t go nearly as well. The calf was stillborn.” Bridghid stopped her licking to nose at Ronan’s hand, like she could sense his distress at the memory. “I was only eleven.”

Adam didn’t give Ronan any platitudes. Ronan didn’t want any.

“That was my first experience with death. Both my parents were there; my mother wiped my tears and my father prayed over the calf. We buried him out behind the long barn, and I just kept crying.” Ronan finally looked over at Adam, his freckles barely visible in the fading light. “When they died, there was no one there to wipe my tears or pray over their bodies.”

Adam tapped the back of his hand with a warm, calloused finger. Ronan looked down at the place where their skin touched. His finger traced a line up his hand and around his wrist, ghosting over the gnarled mess scars.

Ronan didn’t try to explain them. Adam didn’t ask.

“It’s not fair,” Adam said at last, apropos of nothing. He was watching Brighid clean Caolan.

“Hmm?” Ronan prompted.

“Sometimes it seems like every parent has a nurturing instinct except for my own.” Ronan watched him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for Adam to think before he continued. He touched at his left ear absently.

Adam didn’t say anything else on the matter. Ronan didn’t need him to.

“I know it’s late,” Ronan said, standing. “But do you mind if I shower before I drive you home?”

Adam stood, dusted off the knees of his slacks. He looked a little rumpled, one extra button undone on his shirt, his hair a mess, a shadow of purple under his eyes. “Of course not.”

Ronan led him up to the main house, wiping their feet off in the mud room before continuing deeper into the house; finally ending up in the living room. “The kitchen’s that way,” Ronan pointed towards the hallway that led to the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything you can find. Feel free to watch TV or whatever, but I shouldn’t be long.”

Adam nodded tiredly before sinking into the couch. Ronan swept out of the room and up the stairs to his bathroom.

The hot water felt good on his sore muscles, leaving him pink skinned and fresh smelling as he stepped into a clean pear of sweats and an old hoodie. The first floor was silent when he descended the stairs, and Ronan found Adam asleep on the old leather couch, one hand tucked under his head, the other resting on the pale skin of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up slightly.

Before Ronan could do something stupid, he said, “Parrish.”

Adam bolted awake, blue eyes snapping open. “Ronan?” he said sleepily, an accent coloring his voice.

All those weeks ago when they met, Ronan had assumed Adam’s southern accent was just an impression, some skill he honed during his years at Harvard. But the way Ronan’s name slipped out of Adam’s mouth like honey, all soft consonants and long vowels, Ronan was sure that this was what the real Adam Parrish sounded like.

“C’mon, I’m taking you home.”

Adam didn’t argue, yawning and standing up. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making the dusty strands stick up in the back. “How long was I asleep?” he asked as he followed Ronan out of the house.

“Like twenty minutes at the most, dude.”

“Nice.” Adam shoved his feet back into his loafers.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize,” Adam cut in. “I’m glad that I got to see that. Also, I can fall asleep anywhere. When I was in college, I fell asleep with my eyes open during one of my late shifts at the library. Apparently, my supervisor walked past a couple times and didn’t even notice.”

“Creepy.” They climbed into the car, the BMW roaring to life underneath them.

“Yeah, I need’ta remember that’s not a normal thing.”

Adam’s words were still sliding together with his accent; Ronan could listen to him talk all day.

Ronan drove back towards Henrietta, just a band of light blue light at the horizon. He loved this time of night, when time felt stretchy and elastic, a little unreal.

“I grew up in a town like this,” Adam said absently, staring out the window. “In South Carolina. A barely-there spot on a map, a place you could only find if you were really lookin’ for it.”

“Is that why you went all the way to Harvard?”

Adam looked over at him, didn’t ask how Ronan knew. “It was a place made for leaving.”

“I’m sure lots of people think that about Henrietta.”

“Not you, or your friends.”

“I stayed here because I was tired of being left behind.” Ronan kept his gaze on the road, his high beams illuminating every dutifully ignored speed limit sign.

“I mean, you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Only twenty-five with one and a half successful businesses.”

“Not like I had a lot in my way keeping me from success.”

“Yeah,” Adam yawned. “But lots of rich kids start businesses and fail spectacularly because they’re so used to being handed everything in life.”

Ronan shrugged, not sure what to say.

“I went to business school because I thought it would be an easy way to make money. I grew up dirt poor in a double-wide trailer on a dirt plot in Nowhere, South Carolina.” Adam let out a heavy breath. “I thought a couple of fancy degrees from fancy universities would make me worth something.”

“And?” Ronan prompted after a few beats.

“And I realized that sometimes degrees are just lesser or more expensive pieces of paper.” After a moment, he added, “I don’t regret it, though.”

“Well that’s good, because it’s way too fucking late now.”

Adam chuckled lowly. His presence next to Ronan in the car was almost unbearable, so he stepped on the accelerator to get them back to Henrietta faster. Adam didn’t seem to notice the change in their velocity.

“How’d you end up in Henrietta?” Ronan asked.

“Henry and I went to undergrad together; we were pretty good friends. We ran into each other in my last year of my MBA, and he offered me a job. Said he wanted to set up a Real Estate business outside of D.C.” Adam laughed. “I guess he wasn’t totally lying to me. But, yeah. He needed a business manager. It seemed like a good place to start; not like I had any idea what I wanted to do after graduation.” Adam paused to yawn and scratch at the faint stretch of blond stubble on his cheek.

“And have you?” Ronan asked, he hoped he didn’t sound too nervous.

“I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself. _Better_ than myself,” he corrected. After a second, he looked over at Ronan. “So if you’re asking if I think that Lynch Apothecary is that thing, then yes, I do.”

Ronan huffed out a relieved breath, but didn't say anything further. 

Adam leaned his head against the window and regarded Ronan carefully “What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Like, with your life. You told me that you were opening the store to spite your brother, but it seems like more than that now.”

Ronan didn't respond right away, this wasn't his first time thinking about it what he wanted; he just wasn’t quite sure how to form the idea into words.

“I felt stuck. Not unhappy, just… stagnant?” Adam nodded encouragingly. “Like, when I turned eighteen, I dropped out of school and moved back to the Barns full-time. I used my inheritance to fix it up, to make it productive again. And I kept having to expand, until I got to a point where I couldn’t handle it all on my own anymore.

“Sonia was the first person I hired. But I needed more help almost right away. A few months ago, I promoted her because it seemed like the right thing to do, you know? She had been a loyal employee, a hard worker, she deserved it. Turns out, I basically just gave her my fucking job.”

Adam laughed brightly at that, all too amused. “This is why you need me at the store.”

 _Sure_ , Ronan’s brain supplied. _That’s why_. 

“I’ve had fuck all to do the last few months, except for the random calving here and there. Declan was getting on my case about being retired at 25, I saw the sign for the lease at the General Store, and I thought that I could kill two birds with one stone.”

“You don’t need to sound so cavalier,” Adam said. “It’s impressive. What you’ve done is impressive.”

“Thanks, Parrish.” They were finally in the town limits; Ronan could see one of the three traffic lights in town up ahead. “Where am I taking you?”

“St. Agnes church.” Ronan looked over at him as they slid to a stop at the red light. “I live in the apartment above the office,” Adam supplied. “Henry offered to let me live with him, but I thought it would be bad to live with the guy I worked with. Especially when it was such a small town.” He paused. “The light’s green.”

The BMW shot ahead, and Ronan drove to St. Agnes on autopilot, pulling into the lot and parking. “I go to church here,” Ronan said at last.

“I know,” Adam replied. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

Ronan looked over at him, Adam’s face lit by the yellow streetlamp above. He wondered if praying would feel any different in the apartment above the church than in the chapel below.

“‘Night, Lynch.” Adam climbed out of the car. Before he closed the door, he leaned in to say, “drive safe.”

Ronan couldn’t imagine driving all the way back to the Barns, not with the way his brain is buzzing after spending so many hours with Adam Parrish. So he drove to Monmouth instead, his old spot in the parking lot reserved for him even after all these years. He climbed the stairs, being careful to sidestep the creaky floorboard on the landing. Ronan slipped the key into the door and stepped inside.

Gansey and Blue had been living here since they had moved back to Henrietta. Blue had been renovating the old factory, making it fit for habitation. She had started by turning the kitchen/bathroom/laundry in to _three separate and independent rooms like your god intended, Snake_.

Ronan didn’t react to the renovation like he had thought, so used to being averse to change, but it seemed like he had outgrown the old factory. There was something about being 25 with a steady job (or two) that made your bastardized kitchen/bathroom/laundry quite unappealing for any of its three purposes.

Blue had also moved Gansey’s bed out of the living room, taking over Ronan’s old room and turning it into the master. Noah’s room was converted into a guest room, which Ronan planned on taking advantage of tonight with the hope of getting a few hours of sleep before having to go into the store in the morning.

His plans were thwarted however, by the shape of two figures on the couch.

“Ronan?” Gansey asked, peeking over the back of the couch. Some nature documentary was on the TV, the light throwing strange shadows across the room. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t want to drive to the Barns,” Ronan shrugged. He joined Blue and Gansey on the couch. “Hey, Maggot.”

“Hey, Snake,” she yawned, he head in Gansey’s lap. “Thank god you’re here. You can entertain my insomniac boyfriend.” She sat up and stretched. “I’m going to bed, ‘night, Love.” She kissed Gansey chastely before standing. “‘Night, Snake.”

“Goodnight,” Gansey caught her hand as she passed, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Once Blue disappeared to the other room, Gansey turned back to Ronan. “Why are you really here?”

“Seriously, Gans, I just didn’t want to drive all the way back home.”

“Back?”

That single word, just one syllable, was enough to trick the exhausted Ronan Lynch into telling Gansey about his day, from the forms to the cheese tasting to the calving to the drive to St. Agnes when the dark made vulnerability feel a little less terrifying.

“Oh, Ronan.”

“Don’t do that,” Ronan huffed.

“You like him,” Gansey said. Ronan waved him off. “And I think he likes you.”

“He’s a business major who likes to match his belt to his shoes, he’s not into me,” Ronan scoffed. Gansey gave him an exasperated look, Ronan’s wrist coming up to his mouth so he could chew on the bracelets there. “He’s also my business partner,” he said at last. “I don’t want to ruin that. For either of us.”

Well, if that wasn’t growth, Ronan would never know what was.

Gansey patted him twice on the arm. “For what it’s worth, I think you would be good for each other.”

“You barely know the guy.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Gansey stood and stretched. “You want a drink? I think I have some Jameson.”

“Fuck yeah.”

***

“I was thinking,” Adam said from the register. He was messing around with the new software, making sure it was ready for opening day. “We should take an ad out in the paper for the grand opening.”

“Do you not think people are going to show?” Ronan asked, pausing his task of folding and unfolding hand-knitted afghans.

Adam looked up at him, dusty brows drawing together. “No, of course not. I just think if we’re gonna go big, let’s go big.”

“I was thinking we would do more of a soft launch. We could test the store out on a small group of people. We can offer a friends and family discount as incentive.”

Adam paused before walking around the register and standing in front of Ronan. Their eyes met across the table. “It seems like maybe you’re the one who doesn’t think people are going to show up.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan glanced away. “I just. I don’t want—”

“Hey man,” Adam said, cutting Ronan’s breakdown short. “It’s up to you. Either way you need to call the electrician to hang those lights that were supposed to be up a week ago.” Adam pointed behind him to the two empty sockets in the wall above the register.

“Yeah, I was, uh, waiting for a call back from him.”

Adam didn’t respond, just cocked one eyebrow unbelievingly. He had given Ronan a few simple tasks to complete before opening day, getting the electrician to come by and install the light fixtures being one of them.

“You know what I’m gonna do?” Ronan said. “I’m going to follow up,” he took his phone from his pocket and disappeared into the stockroom. He knew Adam wouldn’t follow him back here, he was too stressed out by Ronan’s (lack of) organization of the shelves. This was his private domain.

Ronan couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than call the electrician, so he began mindlessly moving around boxes of product so as to seem busy. On the top shelf was an empty box. In the interest of keeping some amount of order in the stockroom, Ronan pulled on the box down from the shelf.

Apparently, the box wasn’t empty, a jar of hand cream flying out of the box and onto the floor. “Fuck,” Ronan swore, tossing the box to the side before picking the jar up off the floor. It was a jar was dented from where it made contact with the floor.

They wouldn’t be able to sell it now, which was a shame because it really was good hand cream. Ronan was about to put back on the top shelf, out of the way, before a thought came to him. He dropped his arm and looked back down at the hand cream.

It was nearing the end of October, the days getting colder and colder. Adam’s beautiful, freckled hands were dry and chapped with the change of weather. Just earlier that morning, Ronan noticed a few places were Adam’s knuckles were cracked and red with blood.

Adam wouldn’t care if the jar was damaged, he would never accept it as a gift; it directly went against his core values or some shit. Ronan took a sharpie off of one of the shelves and scrawled a message on the top of the jar before tucking the it under Adam’s jacket to be found later.

“Hey, Parrish?” Ronan called, tucking his phone into his pockets. “I gotta go, I have that meeting at the Barns.”

Adam looked up from the register. “Right. Did you call the electrician?”

“I’m gonna be late,” Ronan rushed out the door. “Remember to lock up behind you!”

Ronan raced out to the Barns. Every other week since Sonia’s promotion, Ronan met with her and Noah to check in on the farm operations. It was especially important now that Ronan was working at the store.

The farm was continuing to do well, fall was always their most successful quarter. Something about farms and hipsters and changing leaves always went well together.

Sonia had already dashed out of Noah’s office. They just hired a new farmhand, and she wanted to get back to training him right away.

“So, just a few more days until the grand opening,” Noah smiled brightly as he typed out an email to one of their sellers. “Exciting.”

“We’re actually doing a soft launch,” Ronan bit at one of the bracelets at his wrist. At Noah’s inquisitive expression, he dropped his hand. “What? It’s an effective business strategy.”

“Oh, so it’s Adam’s idea?”

A beat. “No.” Another beat. “It’s always better to go under.”

Noah’s head whipped way from his computer monitor. “Go under? You haven’t even opened yet, how could you be going under—”

“Not like that. Fuck. Just like. Expectations. It’s always better to go under than over.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right.” Noah seemed much less concerned, going back to his email.

“Fuck off. We’re inviting a select group of VIPs and offering a 25% off friends and family discount.”

“If Gansey, Blue, and I buy something together, do we get 75% off?”

“Why would you want to spend _less_ money at my store?”

Noah shrugged, smiling impishly. “You know I love a bargain.”

“Whatever. Don’t go touting it around town okay? The smaller the better.”

Noah leveled Ronan with an apprehensive look but didn’t comment on the matter further. “How are things between you and Adam?”

“What?” Ronan’s dark brows drew together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know,” Noah waggled his fair brows lecherously. “Your whole little will-they-won't-they thing.”

Ronan felt his ears burn. “Shut up.”

Noah continued to grin like a maniac. “It’s cute. I think you’re cute. So does Gansey.”

“Czerny, you gotta stop going to Aglionby for lunch when you’re high.”

Noah scoffed, but didn’t deny it. “You can't blame me. You remember how good their chicken nuggets are.”

Ronan did remember how good their chicken nuggets were, he had been known for piling up his tray every Friday and tucking the extra pieces into the pocket of his blazer to eat during class.

“You’re gonna get arrested. Or worse, get Gansey fired.”

Noah waved him off. “They love Gansey too much to fire him.”

“Fine. But could you at least try not to fucking gossip about me when you’re there? Your life isn’t _Sex and the City_.”

Noah gasped, faux-scandalized. “You take that back, Ronan Niall Lynch. My life _is_ _Sex and the City_ and I am Carrie Bradshaw.”

“Fuck off, Czerny.”

“Ugh, you’re being such a Miranda right now.”

Noah’s bright laughter followed Ronan out of his office and into the fresh autumn air.

***

Ronan wasn’t quite sure how, but news of the soft launch travelled through Henrietta, everyone expecting and invitation to the opening of Lynch Apothecary.

That was the problem with small towns, everyone thought everyone was a friend.

There was a good chance that it was Gansey who let the cat out of the bag, the man wouldn’t know subtly if it slapped him in the face, or called him out for insinuating she was a prostitute.

However, Ronan was pretty sure that it was Noah Czerny who told the whole town about the soft launch. It was Ronan’s fault really. He shouldn’t have told Noah about the event right before his mid-afternoon smoke break. There was a good chance that Noah ended up in town, high as a kite, telling everyone about the grand opening of Lynch Apothecary.

Ronan had no idea just how popular the store opening had become; just how many people would show up. Though, now that he was thinking about it, 25% off was too good a deal to pass up.

“Hey!” someone called after him as he walked towards the store. “Back of the line, bro!”

“No cutting!” a woman with graying hair reached out, trying to grab Ronan’s arm. He easily side-stepped her.

“Excuse me, this is _my_ store. Who are you?”

“I’m Darlene’s cousin. Who the fuck are you?”

Ronan was so taken aback by seeing this elderly woman swear at him, he was speechless for a moment. “That kind of language will not be tolerated at Lynch Apothecary,” he said to the line.

“Lynch!” someone called from the door. It was Adam, his head peeked out. “Get in here.” Ronan stomped off towards the store, Adam letting him in and locking up behind him. “I really underestimated you.”

“What? Why?”

“Who knew you had so much family. Or friends, for that matter.”

“Fuck off.”

Adam smiled, all teeth and teasing. “I thought we didn’t tolerate that kind of language at Lynch Apothecary.”

Ronan huffed and pushed past him, retreating to the relative privacy of the backroom. The dented hand cream had disappeared a few days ago, and Ronan assumed that Adam had taken it. Had Ronan been the type of guy to pay attention to Adam’s hands, he would assume that they were looking soft and smooth, hopefully giving him some relief.

(That is to say, Ronan was the type of person who paid attention to Adam’s hands and they did look soft and smooth again)

“Shit, what are we gonna do—” Ronan started as he walked back out on to the floor.

“Lynch, it’s going to be fine, okay? You can’t freak out now,” Adam said, remaining eerily calm.

Ronan was taking in their store, the displays ready, prices clearly marked, the register was running the most updated software. Even the lights behind the counter were mounted.

“Oh fuck, the lights. I forgot to call the electrician—”

Adam turned and flipped a stitch, the lights coming on and giving the room a soft, warm glow. When he looked back at Ronan, he was struggling to keep a smile from taking over his face. “I watched a lot of YouTube tutorials.”

“Impressive,” Ronan mumbled, still staring at the lights.

“Well, there’s a small chance I didn’t wire it right. But like, really small.”

Good to know that even in times of panic, Adam Parrish had to make sure everyone knew he was perfect. Ronan rolled his eyes before taking a deep, calming breath.

In through the nose and out through the mouth.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Are we ready to do this?”

“Open the door,” Adam said, nodding earnestly. Ronan took one last deep breath before walking over to the door. “Softly,” Adam teased.

“You know what?” Ronan said, but he didn’t have an answer. He just smiled ruefully at Adam Parrish, the late afternoon sunshine making him glow.

Ronan unlocked the door and flipped the sign to _open_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know that it was only supposed to be 2 chapters, but it just kept getting longer and longer and I dont know how. Though, chapter 3 should be up tomorrow!
> 
> Comments/Kudos are always greatly appreciated ♥︎
> 
> You can find me [here.](https://andtimestoodstill.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed like all of Henrietta had shown up for the opening of Lynch Apothecary. Thankfully, they had more than enough wine to go around if they dipped into their stock of prosecco from a nearby vineyard.

Adam was working the register, while Ronan walked the floor, answering customer’s questions and restocking when needed. They were already running low on hand cream, a fact that made Ronan smile as he grabbed an armful from the stockroom.

“Hey, Lynch.” Ronan turned to see Noah, bright-eyed and smiling. “Great turn out. Seems like you didn’t have to worry about people showing up.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole. This was supposed to be a private event.”

“What?”

“We were gonna do a _soft_ launch.” Ronan lined up the jars of hand cream.

“Then why did you ask me to tell people about the opening?”

Ronan just glowered at him for a moment before Noah understood.

“Oh shit, I wasn’t supposed to say anything was I?”

“Nope.” Ronan set down the last jar of hand cream. He looked over at the register where Adam was sending one customer on their way, a Lynch Apothecary tote bag hanging from one hand and waving the next person in line over, smiling all the while. “But I’m kind of glad you did.”

Noah followed his gaze, smirking as Adam caught his eye. “Hey, Adam—”

Ronan was about to turn away before Noah could embarrass him further, when Blue appeared at the blonde’s shoulder. “Leave him alone, Noah.” Before Ronan could be relieved at her intervention, she said, “hey, I have a question about this Joshua tree tea.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weed?”

“What? No, it’s loose leaf tea. You should know the difference.”

“You sure? Because it smells like Noah after his lunch break.”

Noah leaned over and smelled the contents of the bag, realization dawning over his face. “Oh, shit, Lynch. That’s some good shit!”

“Shut up,” Ronan hissed. “That’s tea that Mr. Hockley makes out of a greenhouse on his farm.” There was a beat of silence. “Now that I’ve said it out loud, I might have to double check.”

Noah’s shit eating grin lit up his face. “Well, I’m gonna grab a few bags of tea before I go.” He plucked the bag from Blue hand. “Congrats, bro. I’m proud of you.” He clapped Ronan on the shoulder before grabbing a few more bags of Mr. Hockley’s best.

“Give me that,” Ronan reached for the bags.

“Hey,” Noah spun away. “I love tea! I’ve been drinking tea since high school!” He pushed his way towards the register, the crowd of people keeping him out of Ronan’s reach.

“You can’t be surprised,” Blue said. He turned to look at her. 

“That’s the problem, I’m not.”

Blue rose up the balls of her feet, gripping Ronan by the shoulders to pull him down. She smacked a kiss on his cheek, surely leaving a smudge of purple lipstick behind. “Congratulations. You’ve done an amazing job here.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, but he felt his ears burn at the praise. “Where’s Gansey?”

Blue searched the room. “Ah, it seems like my lightweight of a boyfriend is chatting up your business partner.” Gansey was, in fact, at the register animatedly speaking with Adam as he rang up Gansey’s items. “He might be more in love with Adam than you are.”

Ronan flicked her ear, “fuck off.” Blue just laughed and caught his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“We’re both so proud of you, you know that right?”

“Get out of here with that sappy shit. And go get your boyfriend, he’s holding up the line.”

Blue dropped his hand. “Fine, but I’m going to send him over here to compliment you himself.”

Ronan waved her off and went back to work.

“Ronan,” Declan said, coming up from behind him. Up until now, Ronan had been doing a great job of avoiding his older brother.

“Can you save your criticism for tomorrow?” Ronan didn’t look over at his brother as he straightened up a row of candles. “I’m working.”

“Hey, look at me.” Declan’s voice had lost its usual edge. Ronan finally met Declan’s gaze, his dark hair curling against his ears despite the pounds of hair gel Declan used every day. Like this, dressed in a charcoal gray sweater and seeming older than his years, he almost looked like their father. “This place is amazing, Ronan.” He was so earnest that it made Ronan want to punch him square in the mouth.

“Shut up.”

“You’ve done something truly winsome in this town.”

That broke the spell, and Ronan rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so pretentious. _Winsome_ ,” Ronan scoffed and went back to straightening the displays.

“Just take the compliment, Ronan.”

The younger Lynch sighed. “Thank you, Declan. I’m so glad that the store has your approval.”

“You should be,” Declan said. “I’m the reason this place exists.”

“How do you fucking figure?”

“If you hadn’t been so desperate to piss me off, you never would have had the idea for the store.” Declan’s smile was sharp and shark-like. Somehow, he looked even more like their father like this.

“Whatever. I did all the hard work.”

“Yeah,” Declan’s voice softened. “Yeah, you did.”

Ronan paused, not sure if could handle anymore compliments. “Make sure Matty doesn’t buy any of the Joshua tree tea.”

“Why not?”

“It may or may not be marijuana.”

“Ronan—”

“Sorry, another customer requires my attention! I’ll see you at Mass on Sunday!” Ronan slipped away into the crowd. He caught Adam’s eye from across the room, there was a lull between customers checking out. Adam smiled at him, eyebrows raising in amusement.

Ronan retuned the smile, trying to keep himself from grinning too broadly.

***

Later, after Gansey had tearfully and enthusiastically congratulated Ronan over and over again and after Ronan had hid the rest of the Joshua Tree tea Noah hadn’t bought and after they sold the last jar of hand cream and Adam locked the door behind their last customer, Ronan and Adam were finally alone.

“Well, that was a success,” Ronan said as Adam turned around.

“I would say so, yeah.” Adam picked up his glass of prosecco, the last of the sparkling wine. Ronan had already downed his glass as Gansey had trailed on and on with how proud of Ronan he was. “Although, you know, we’d be 25% richer if we had just done a hard launch. But, hey, I’m just the numbers guy.” He took a sip of his drink, eyes full of mirth as he looked at Ronan over the rim of the glass.

“Sure, but had we not done the _soft_ launch, we wouldn’t have lured all those people.”

“Hm. Well you know what the best thing about it is?” Adam turned away and put his empty glass down. “We never have to talk about it again because we’re officially open.”

“That’s true,” Ronan glanced around the store, trying to commit this moment to memory.

“Congratulations, man,” Adam said, arms spread for a hug.

“Congratulations to you,” Ronan responded after a moment, voice low. Adam closed the distance between them, the fair stubble on his cheek scratching against Ronan’s face.

Ronan could feel his pulse race with Adam this close. He smelled like ivory soap and man and, god above, Ronan’s hand cream. Adam pulled him a little closer, patting Ronan on the back twice, his breath ghosting across the nape of Ronan’s neck.

How the hell was he supposed to survive just being Adam Parrish’s friend?

Just as Ronan was going to pull back, sure that he was giving himself away, the lights flickered and dimmed.

Adam stepped away; face twisted up in annoyance. “I can fix that.”

“You fucking better, Parrish.”

Adam’s laugh lit up the whole damn store.

***

“Ronan, I’ve called you three times.”

“What do you want, Dicklan? I’m working.” Ronan tucked his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he unpacked a new shipment of cologne and put them out. “And it’s my birthday, I shouldn’t have to answer your calls.”

“That’s what I’m calling about, actually.” Declan sighed. “Apparently Matthew has a paper due tomorrow. One he _hasn’t started writing yet_ —” by his tone, Ronan could tell that Declan was speaking to the blond in question. He could hear Matthew’s voice in the background defending himself.

“Oh.”

“Look, we’re not going to be able to come by for dinner tonight. But we’ll drive down on Saturday and spend the night and go to Mass in the morning.”

“That’s worse.”

“I’m sorry, Ronan. Really, I am.” Declan, for once in his life, actually sounded like he was telling the truth. Ronan sighed long-sufferingly.

Before he could respond, the door opened and Adam walked in, the collar of his coat drawn up against the cold. He smiled at Ronan brightly, cheeks tinged pink, and disappeared into the back room. “Can I talk to him?”

There was a rustle as Declan passed the phone to Matthew. “Ronan, I’m _so_ sorry—"

“Hey, it’s alright, kid. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to ruin your big day.”

Ronan scoffed and watched Adam come back out of the stock room. He was wearing a navy-blue shirt tucked into his jeans, the color dark his winter-paled skin. “It’s not a big deal. Consider pissing off Declan as your gift to me.”

“Okay!” Matthew said brightly; everything was water off a duck’s back to him. “I’ll see you on Saturday!”

“Bye, kid.”

“Bye, Ronan!”

Ronan hung up before Declan could bother him any longer, shoving the phone back into his jeans. “Hey,” he said to Adam, unpacking the last of the cologne. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Was that your brother? The excitable one? Matthew?”

“Uh,” Ronan tossed the empty box into the stock room to deal with later. “Yeah.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Mhm.” Ronan stood behind the counter and knocked his knuckles against the counter. “Let me ask you something. You ever have a really shitty birthday?”

Adam laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, of course. Hard to pick just one, really.” Adam bit his lip before saying, “though, my birthday is July 3rd, so I used to pretend the fireworks were for me.” He paused again. “Oh my god, I’ve never said that out loud before. That’s so fucking depressing.”

“Jesus Christ, Parrish. This is supposed to be my pity party, not yours.”

Adam laughed, still a little embarrassed with himself if his flush was anything to go by. “I take it that it’s your birthday?”

“Yup.”

“And your brothers just cancelled on you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Ronan grumbled, fixing a display of hand-sewn notebooks.

“So, you, uh, don’t have any plans, then?”

Ronan looked over at Adam. There was still a twinge of pink present on his cheeks. “Uh, no. I’ll probably just get drunk and hang out with the cows.”

“Sounds like fun.” Adam nodded a few times before saying. “Have you ever been to Nino’s? I’ve heard people raving about how moderately edible it is.”

“Yeah, I’ve been to Nino’s,” Ronan tried to keep the laugh out of his voice, but it was impossible.

“We could, uh, go for a birthday dinner?”

Ronan paused. “You don’t have to do that, Parrish.” He couldn’t meet Adam’s eye.

“No, I’d, uh, like to.”

Ronan finally looked up, Adam’s expression open and vulnerable in a way he had only seen when Adam was half-asleep in the passenger seat of Ronan’s car. “Sure.”

“Eight?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Adam nodded and got back to work.

***

Ronan arrived at Nino’s just after eight, shouldering his way into the restaurant and spotting Adam in the corner booth. It was getting close to curfew for the raven boys, so Nino’s was pretty dead at this time of night.

“I almost didn’t see you there,” Ronan said as he sat down, “through the madness of the Thursday night dinner crowd.”

Adam laughed as Ronan settled across from him. He must have had time to change after they closed up that afternoon, now wearing a light blue shirt and a suit jacket. “I’m just glad I made a reservation.”

“You look nice.”

Adam glanced down and then back up at Ronan. “Oh, yeah. I just assumed there was a dinner jacket policy, and I didn’t want to have to wear one of Nino's. I assume he's a real person?"

An unbidden laugh bubbled out of Ronan. “He's not.” Ronan had not had the time to go all the way to the Barns to change, so he had gone to Monmouth to shower and bother Gansey while he graded papers. “You really haven’t been here before?”

“Nope,” Adam was holding the menu, but he was looking at Ronan, a smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, if you want to know what kind of establishment this is, you should know that they regularly allow Gansey to order a pizza with Italian sausage and avocado on it.”

Adam’s face drew up in disgust, but his eyes were still smiling. “Ew.”

“Yeah. He’s kind of disgusting.”

“Why would he order that?”

“High school boys are gross. And I think he was just trying to get the waitress’ attention and now it’s way too late to go back. I guess it’s really Blue’s fault that it worked.”

“She used to work here?” Adam glanced around the restaurant for a moment before his gaze landed on Ronan again. Ronan was pretty sure they had never had such prolonged eye contact before. He didn't know how much more of Adam’s attention he could handle. “That sounds like a fuckin’ nightmare.”

Ronan had to look away.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Noah said, flouncing up to their table. He was dressed in his usual holey band shirt and ripped jeans that he wore when he didn’t have any meetings lined up for the day and there was no one but the cows to impress. “Is this it?” he asked looking between Ronan and Adam.

Ronan had called Noah from Monmouth and invited him to dinner when he found out that Gansey and Blue had made plans on his birthday even though he told them that he was going to dinner with his brothers. The audacity, really.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Adam said carefully, his tone measured. “ _Is_ anyone else coming?”

“Nope,” Ronan replied. “This is it. In case you didn’t know, I’m wildly popular. Some would even say _beloved_.”

“No one says that,” Noah scoffed, oblivious to the tension.

“Yeah, that seems like a stretch,” Adam said at last, the tension from his shoulders dropping. He turned to Noah. “well, hi Noah. If I had known you were coming, I would have had them set three places…”

“Did I not tell you?” Ronan said.

It wasn’t technically a lie.

“The more the merrier,” Adam smiled tightly. “I’m gonna go quickly use the bathroom.” Adam stood and walked off.

Noah sat down on the empty bench. “Happy birthday, Lynch.”

“Thanks, Czerny.”

“Is this okay?” he asked, one fair eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because it looks like he bought you a gift.” Noah picked up the bag and placed it on the table. “It’s very nicely wrapped.”

It was, in fact, nicely wrapped. And not even with the gift-wrapping supplies they had at the store. Adam had gone out and bought his own gift bag and tissue paper.

“Is this a _date_?”

“Oh. No. No, no, no, no.”

Five _no_ ’s seemed like enough.

Noah just smiled impishly. “He thought you guys were meeting one-on-one. He bought you a _present_. _I_ didn’t even get you a present.”

“Yeah, I noticed that—”

“I didn’t get high at work today, how’s that a gift for you?” Noah grinned. After a moment, he said, “you want me to look?” he jerked his head towards the present.

“Fuck off.”

“Fine. I’ll just say this.” He pushed the gift towards Ronan. “If there is anything even _remotely_ sentimental in here, he is on a date with you right now.”

Ronan paused, considering.

Adam came out of the bathroom a few moments later, Noah scooting over on the bench to make room for him.

“Ah, I see you’ve found my present,” Adam said, sounding abashed.

“Yeah, we, uh, didn’t want to spill anything on it,” Ronan said gruffly, staring down at the menu like he hadn’t memorized it ten years ago.

“So you put it _on_ the table?”

Ronan looked up, not quite sure how to respond. “Yup.”

“Open it, Ronan,” Noah, the little shit, said.

“Oh, no, you don’t—It’s not a big deal, really—” Adam tried to grab the present, but Noah, the aforementioned little shit, pushed it closer to Ronan. Adam seemed to give up with a sigh, pulling his hands back to his lap.

“This is the first gift that I haven’t bought myself in a long time,” Ronan said, aiming for levity. “So, thank you.”

“You’re gonna be so underwhelmed when you open it,” Adam said, defensive and a little on edge. “Trust me. It’s nothing.”

Ronan pushed past the tissue paper to find a black frame in the bag. He pulled it out, his heart stuttering at the sight of the white slip of paper trapped behind the glass.

“What is it?” Noah asked.

“It’s a receipt,” Adam said when Ronan found he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. “From our first sale at the store.”

Ronan finally looked up to see something akin to fear in Adam’s expression, like he was afraid Ronan wouldn’t love this gift more than anything. “This isn’t nothing, Adam. Thank you.”

A tinge of pink bloomed on Adam’s delicate cheekbones. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Alright, a large Italian sausage and avocado,” Twyla, the weeknight waitress, said, dropping a pizza down on the table.

“Oh, we didn’t order this,” Adam stared down at the pizza with thinly veiled disgust.

“Isn’t this your usual?” she looked between the boys. “Oh! You’re not Gansey.”

“No,” Adam laughed, “I am not.”

“I’m so sorry, I just saw Ronan and Noah and I assumed the only well-dressed man at the table was Gansey… Let me take this back—”

"Would you go as far as to describe Gansey as well dressed?" Ronan asked, Adam kicking him under the table with a shake of his head a smile tugging at his mouth.

Noah leaned around Adam to speak to their server. “No harm, no foul, Twy. Will you pack it up to go for me? I’ll pay for it.” Twyla looked confused, but nodded before disappearing to the kitchen. “Hey, Parrish, let me out will ya?”

“What?” Adam said, still complying with Noah’s request, or perhaps Noah’s pushing.

The blond stumbled out of the booth. “Yeah, I need to go. I forgot I had a thing.”

“A thing?” Adam asked. Ronan was embarrassed by Noah’s lack of creativity. “C’mon, you don’t have to eat that pizza, it’s gross.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have enough of Mr. Hockley’s Joshua tree tea to get me through it.” Twyla returned with the box of pizza. “Alright, you two have a great night, happy birthday, Lynch.” He gave Ronan a fist bump before flouncing over to the register to pay for the pizza.

“What the hell is he talking about? Is he high right now?”

“He’s about to _get_ high,” Ronan said, watching Noah carefully as he pulled out his wallet while chatting with Twyla.

“What does Mr. Hockley’s tea have to do with it?”

“It’s weed,” Ronan said looking back over at Adam.

“ _What_?”

“Don’t worry, Noah’s the only one who bought it. I pulled it off the floor during the soft launch.”

That was enough to make Adam chuckle, but it only distracted him for a moment. “Wait. Mr. Hockley _grows_ weed?”

“Shut up, Parrish,” Ronan kicked him under the table. Well, it was more of a soft tap of his foot to Adam’s. “Don’t be a fucking narc.”

“Jesus, this whole town is a fucking nightmare.” Adam slumped down to rest his forehead on the sticky Formica table. Noah was finally done talking to Twyla, Ronan catching his eye as he passed.

Noah stopped, pointing at Adam and then flashing Ronan a thumbs up, a soft, earnest smile on his face.

Ronan flipped Noah off as he traipsed out of the restaurant, pizza in hand.

Adam finally sat up. “Okay, now that my breakdown is over, you ready to order?”

***

They ordered a cheese pizza to share because Ronan had the palate of a six-year-old and _it’s your birthday, Lynch, you can have whatever you want_. Nino’s was closing up around them as Adam paid their bill and Ronan piled their trash on to an empty plate.

“You ready?” Adam asked. Ronan looked up at him, their eyes meeting. Adam was smiling softly.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Ronan had offered to drive Adam home, and they were walking out into the chilly November night, their shoulders brushing. The BMW was at the far end of the lot, Adam climbing into the passenger seat after Ronan unlocked the car.

Ronan got in on the driver’s side, but didn’t start the car. “That was a fun night,” he said, grinning.

Adam looked at him, his face half in shadow, expression solemn. “I’m really glad I decided to invest in your business, Lynch."

“That’s a really nice thing to say.”

“And I’m _so_ glad you did, Parrish,” Adam snarked back. “Because you helped turn it into the success that it is.”

“Hm, a bold claim,” Ronan smiled wolfishly before stepping on the brake and starting the car.

Ronan drove through the sleepy streets of Henrietta, the stereo turned down low to a hum of bass and treble. “I mean it though,” Ronan said, feeling a little less afraid when he wasn’t looking right at Adam Parrish. “I had a good time tonight, so thank you. I think this might be my favorite birthday to date.”

“I moved out of my parents’ trailer on my eighteenth birthday,” Adam said, looking out the window, probably feeling a little braver when he wasn’t looking right at Ronan Lynch. “Sort of. I technically spent it in the hospital. But it’s still my favorite birthday.”

Ronan wasn’t sure what to say. He tried to picture the version of Adam that Adam was describing, hard-eyed and world-weary at eighteen. He wondered if that version of Adam would have gotten along with the sharp-tongued and steel-barbed Ronan of a decade ago.

He wondered if it mattered if they didn't.

“I never thought I would make it to eighteen.” The confession felt heavy in the dark. St. Agnes loomed up ahead, and Ronan pulled into the lot. He wondered if the sacrament of confession was observed out here in the parking lot.

He wondered if it mattered if it wasn't.

“Every birthday since has felt like a goddamned miracle.” Ronan looked over at Adam.

Adam was already looking back.

Ronan leaned across the center console, seatbelts and holy ground be dammed, and kissed Adam Parrish.

Adam Parrish kissed him back.

They pulled away after what was either a blink of an eye or a millennia, Ronan wasn’t really sure. Adam leaned back, breathing heavy in the silence of the car. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, his eyes finding Ronan’s in the dark.

Ronan felt _raw_.

“For what?”

“Um, I’ve never done that before.” Adam paused and glanced down at his lap. “With a guy,” Adam clarified, looking up. “Yeah, and uh,” he laughed at himself, a quiet helpless thing. “I was afraid that I was going to go home without us having done that. So, uh, thank you.” Adam said again. “For making that happen for us.”

“Fortunately, I am a very generous person.”

Adam smiled and breathed out a laugh. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Ronan nodded, not caring if he seemed too earnest. He was throwing all of his chill out of the fucking window. “We can talk whenever you’d like.”

“Goodnight, Ronan.”

“Goodnight, Adam.”

Adam unbuckled and climbed out of the car. Ronan tried to follow his form in the dark in vain, his eyes slipping closed as he replayed the memory of kissing Adam over and over.

There was a knock on the window that made Ronan almost jump out of his skin. He rolled it down to see Adam standing there, breathing heavy.

“You get locked out or something, Parrish?”

“No,” Adam was smiling, brighter and wilder than Ronan had ever seen. “I just. Do you. I mean.” He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed. When they opened, her was clear-eyed. “Do you want to come upstairs? I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Adam leaned in the window and kissed Ronan, the press of lips lasting just a few beats. “C’mon, Lynch. Hurry up.”

Ronan laughed and rolled up the window before turning off the car. When he climbed out of the car Adam tugged him in for another kiss, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. After Adam pulled away, Ronan said, “now who’s stalling?”

Adam rolled his eyes, but the gesture lost most of its heat when Ronan saw the smile twisting at the corner of Adam’s mouth. “Let’s go.” He reached down to grab Ronan’s hand.

And god, if kissing Adam Parrish wasn’t going to kill him, holding his hand would.

Ronan had stopped dead in his tracks at the twist of Adam’s fingers in his. Adam looked over at him, smirking. “What?” Ronan said acerbically.

“Nothing. You know, just _manibus_. It makes sense now.”

Ronan paused. “Fuck off.”

Adam tugged him closer by the hand until he was kissing Ronan. For some reason that was enough for Ronan to forget what he was mad about.

“Okay,” Adam said between kisses. “Upstairs.” Another kiss. “I’m cold.” He led Ronan up the stairs, unlocking the door and tugging him inside.

In the morning there would need to be conversations and confessions, definitions and decisions. But for now, there was something holy happening in the apartment above St. Agnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many AUs can I write about Ronan's birthday before I get bored? 
> 
> (the limit does not exist)
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed, I know I did!
> 
> Comments/Kudos are always greatly appreciated ♥︎
> 
> You can find me [here.](https://andtimestoodstill.tumblr.com)


End file.
